The fingers work his p***s!
“I just hope the smallest teat cup is not too big for this little thing,” Miss Margie comments with a chuckle.
The shriveled strip of flesh starved for attention, Roger experiences the irony of sensing the same tingling within his once virile manhood as that felt in his n*****s. The fingers withdraw and Miss Margie returns to stand before him.
“We’ll take of that prostate, Roger.”
Miss Margie turns on the milking machine. The whirr brings more tingling, more expectation, more droplets oozing to the n****e tips, splashing with a ping to the pan below.
Meanwhile My Ling arrives, tray and wine glass, chilled Chardonnay. Miss Margie accepts and sips gazing as Roger’s n*****s slowly secrete.
“You are eager to perform for me, Roger,” an exuberant Miss Margie not
